Handcuffs
by Dark-English-Rose
Summary: Remy and Scott chained together with pink fluffy handcuffs, how can you not wanna read this? First story in the "Trapped" series to be co-written with Nari1


Hello dere everybody, this is "Handcuffs", the first story in a series co-written by me and Nari1 called "Trapped"

The second story will be written by her, the third by me, fourth by her, and so on…

There is a hint of slash in this particular story, so if you don't like it, I don't like you, ha.

It's rated 'cos there's a teeny bit of swearing and some implications of thinks not very decent, heh, so just to be on the safe side it's pg…

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Remy, Scott, or any pink fluffy handcuffs actually *sigh* I do, however, own Sharlene, she's my creation, go me! Heh.

Enjoy…

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"This is all your fault, Gambit." Scott said, glaring at his wrist.

"Don' blame me, y'don' know what happened." Remy countered, scowling, his gaze directed much the same way.

The thing they were both concentrating on was a pair of handcuffs, more specifically, a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs, even more specifically, a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs that attached their wrists together.

"No, but it was *your* idea to, what did you say? "Loosen up and party"?"

"Somet'in' like dat oui..." Remy replied uncomfortably "But I di'n' force all dat alcohol down y't'roat!"

"Most of it, as I recall, you did." Scott snapped, with another glare, but this time directed at the Cajun thief himself, who grinned charmingly.

"Ok, maybe I did, but 'm sure dis ain' my fault… Where are we anyway?" He asked, looking around with a slight frown.

"Uh…" Scott scared around as well "Unless we came *really* far from Vegas, I guess the Nevada Desert…"

"Oh great…" Remy groaned "You got y'comm? Maybe we can get someone t'come pick us up." Scott's glare at Remy intensified. 

"No, Gambit, I don't have my comm. You know *why* I don't have my comm?" he continued, not giving Remy a chance to answer "Because *somebody*, naming no names, REMY LEBEAU, decided that carrying around comms would be pointless and we might get distracted by them during our 'partying'. So that *somebody* decided to steal my comm and hide it."

"Uh…right, well, never mind eh? We can just walk back t'de hotel."

"A brilliant idea Remy, so which way do we go?" His tone was cocky, sarcastic.

"Uh…oh..."

"Yes 'oh', we're screwed Remy and it's all your fault!"

"Well we ain' gonna get anywhere by blamin' me!" Remy snapped back, standing up, or rather, attempting to stand up. Scott couldn't help himself, as Remy tumbled to the floor, pulled down by the cuff still attached to his wrist, and landed ungraciously on his arse, he started laughing. 

Remy scowled, standing up again and yanking the cuffs, pulling Scott to his feet, at which point Scott stopped laughing, lost his balance, and they both ended up on their backs again. 

Both scowling now, they stood up at the same time.

"I think we should go this way." They both said in unison, and set off in different directions… Needless to say, they ended up on the floor again.

Eventually, they sorted themselves out, decided which way to go and set off. They'd been walking only about half an hour when Remy stopped.

"What is it?" Snapped Scott, turning to look at a very worried face.

"I need a pee." Remy said, still looking slightly uncomfortable.

"OK then, hurry up." Scott said, turning away and moving away as far as was possible when cuffed to someone.

"Ain' dat simple mon ami, 'm right handed." Scott turned back, his now-wide eyes drawn in morbid fascination to the pink fluff that encircled Remy's – you've guessed it – right wrist.

"Just...get it over with..." Scott said, turning away again, but his arm pulled behind him, trying not to think about how close his hand was… To take his mind off it, he searched for the memory of how they'd got into this situation…

__

"I've got a great game we can play!" The scantily clad young woman exclaimed, Scott never did find out her name, but he was sure he'd seen her before.

"An' what's dat Cherie?" A very drunken Remy drawled from his seat on the bar, taking another swig of his bottle of…whatever it was that he was drinking at the moment. Scott looked down at his own bottle, he wasn't sure what that was either, but both Remy and the excitable young lady had enthused that it was very good, and he'd been too drunk to care.

"Well!" The girl half-shouted, clapping her hands, she really was very enthusiastic about everything. "What you do is this, you…" and that was where, it seemed to Scott, everything went very blurry for a moment, he caught one thing in the whole enthusiastic tirade of words, and that was "handcuffs"

"Sounds like fun!" Someone shouted happily (and drunkenly) in his voice, it certainly wasn't him, he wouldn't do anything like that.

Remy grinned at him "Oui, it does."

The next thing Scott knew he was being attached to Remy via a pair of very fluffy and very pink handcuffs, and then –

"OK, 'm done, let's go." Remy's abrupt voice interrupted his thoughts and he lost it.

"Well, I remember how we got the handcuffs, but after that…" he shrugged and sighed slightly as they started walking again.

"Oui, I can remember dat, I t'ink Sharlene mighta put somet'in' in dose drinks." 

"Sharlene?" Scott looked confused.

"De barmaid, y'remember? In de hotpants, boob tube an' de cowboy hat an' boots?"

"Oh, yes, her, was that her name?" Remy nodded and they both fell silent again. 

After at least another hour of walking, although to Scott it seemed more, there was a crackling noise and Storm's voice came from Remy's pocket.

"Hello? Hello? Gambit? Come in." 

The two men stared at each other, before Remy reached into his pocket and sheepishly pulled out a comm.

"Storm?" He spoke into it. 

"Remy?" the voice crackled over the device, sounding very relieved "Is Cyclops with you?"

"Oui chere, we're bot' here an' ok, in de desert f'some reason, can y'come get us?"

Storm replied in the affirmative "We shall come directly." She told them, before telling them to stay where they were and they'd come pick the two men up.

"I can't believe you had your comm the whole time!" Scott shouted

"Hey, calm down Cyke, I di'n' know, an' it's better'n not havin' it…" Remy countered in his usual infuriatingly charming voice.

Scott just glared and took a seat on a nearby rock, yanking the cuffs so Remy was pulled along with him. The Cajun took a seat on the rock beside him and they settled down to wait.

"Tell nobody anything that happened last night, right?" Scott snapped at him.

"I ain' tellin' not'in' Scott, even if I could remember it." Remy replied calmly. "It was fun dough, wasn' it?" He asked with a grin.

"No, it…" Scott began hotly, then looked sort of sheepish "Ok, I admit it was fun, but I'm not doing it again."

"An' it ain' so bad bein' handcuffed t'me, is it?" Remy pushed, still grinning.

Scott sighs "No Remy, it isn't so bad being chained to you, but I don't want it happening again… and I *don't* want this getting out to the rest of the team!" 

"No problem cher." Remy nodded slightly, he didn't particularly want it to be known he spent any length of time chained to Scott with pink fluffy handcuffs either.

Scott looked over at him in surprise, he'd often heard Remy use 'cher' before, usually to his friends, but they were all female. As he looked over, he met Remy's steady gaze and they both paused for a moment, Remy leaned forward ever so slightly, and Scott did the same.

Just then, there was the roar of an engine and Storm arrived. The moment broken, they looked away from each other, ignoring the atmosphere that filled the air just seconds ago as they wait for the blackbird to descend and climb on it.

The first thing they do once onboard is to get rid of the cuffs, the only hint that anything out of the ordinary had been happening was that they avoided each other's eyes while they did so.

They took their seats and began telling Storm the story of what exactly had been happening during their trip to Vegas, as the weather witch flew them home… 

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I live but to get reviews.


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